Memory in a Dream - OCP Side Story
by Evilpyecat1987
Summary: Takes place between Chapters 6 and 7 of "Operation Cherry Picker", but can be read as a stand-alone story. Alfred dreams about a time when he and Matthew have an adventure of sorts as children. No pairings, lots of NA bro time. Looking to finish this off in Chapter 2. T rating just to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

_**AN: So I'm sitting in front of my laptop taking a break between writing part two of "Redemption" and continuing on with chapter 7 of "Operation Cherry Picker" when I was inspired to write this while listening to my MP3 player. The song playing was "Song For Lisa" by The Japanese Popstars, and for some reason the lyrics made me want to write a story featuring a Child!America and Child!Matthew having an adventure and scaring England and France half to death. So, I did. Remember, the authoress has no regrets. Seriously.**_

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HETALIA, NOR DO I MAKE ANY PROFIT FROM THIS WORK OF FICTION. HETALIA IS THE PROPERTY OF HIDEKAZ-SAMA AND STUDIO DEEN. THIS IS FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY!**

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_The following takes place between chapter 6 and 7 of "Operation Cherry Picker", but has been written to stand alone. If you are confused in any way, I would suggest that you go and read it first. If you don't wish to do so, then disregard any references to that story. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it_.

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As Alfred lay sleeping on the bed, every now and then his face would scrunch up as though he was concentrating on something unpleasant, or smile like he was remembering something that made him happy. Matthew, having moved to sit on the other side of him closest to the window, couldn't help but react to the emotions flicking across his face. He looked over to Arthur, who had resumed reading his book and looking quite content. Waving his hand to catch his attention, he pointed down to his brother when he finally paused long enough to look, smiling as Alfred's lips curved upwards yet again.

"I wonder what he's dreaming about." He unconsciously stroked his hair, hoping that the other expression didn't return, the one that suggested he was troubled by something.

Arthur, in turn, gazed down at his former charge with an endearing expression of his own. The boy looked so young when he was sleeping. If he concentrated hard enough, he could almost believe he was a child again. "There's no telling, knowing him. Probably something featuring him as the hero." Chuckling, he turned back to his book, leaving Matthew to continue his study of the snoozing America.

When Alfred murmured something intelligible, Matthew snickered. "Probably so. He's always wanted to be one."

Mentioning the one in question's resemblance to his child self, it just so happened that he was at the start of a very vivid dream about a time when was just that, a child.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-*Let's do the Time Warp – Late spring, early 1700's*o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

It was early morning, some time around eight. The air was cool but humid, the promise of afternoon storms heavy in the air. The grounds of the plantation house were quiet save for the sounds of animals in the barnyard, and the song of birds in the air. The house itself, white with red shutters and a wrap-around porch on both the first and second floors, completed the picture of what would be a beautiful painting, if one was of a mind to put it to canvas. Yes, it was a peaceful morning, perfect for a lovely walk around the grounds perhaps.

That was all ruined with the sudden bang of a screen door being flung open, followed by the giggles of two boys tearing out the back door towards the pond at the back of the property.

"C'mon Mattie! If we don't hurry we won't have any luck catching any!"

"A-Alfred! Slow down!"

As the children ran towards the large body of water, a harried looking man appeared in the doorway, hands on his hips, lips bowed in a disapproving frown. He called out to the boys, who were almost to the pond already. "For the love of God, stop slamming the door! And don't you DARE get those clothes dirty. You can go fishing without wallowing in the muck with your catch, you know!"

Another man, this one making his way to the morning parlor, chuckled at the sight the other made standing there. "My my, Angleterre, one would think you were a mother hen, the way you fuss over them."

The accent the other had, very French and VERY annoying, turned slowly to give him a glare, green eyes filled with a venom reserved especially for this individual. "You know just as well as I do if you don't say anything to them, they'll come back with half the dirt in the Virginia colony clinging to them!"

The Frenchman chuckled again, brushing back a lock of his carefully styled hair. "Ah, but they are but children, mon ami! Boys, at that. They cannot help but attract the dirt." He motioned for him to come along to the parlor. "Come, let's sit and enjoy the peace and quiet while it lasts. I do believe Anna has served your tea already."

Sighing, Arthur pulled the screen door closed, but left the wooden one open, in case one of his precious babies called out in distress. He followed the other, Francis, into the other room where his tea was in fact already waiting, along with a stack of messages from various colonial government offices. Sitting down, he began to prepare a cup, pausing to give Francis a questioning look. "Would you like a cup? Not that you would appreciate it."

Francis, who had taken the seat opposite Arthur, snorted but motioned that he would accept the offer. "Can't we have one day where we are not at each other's throats?" He sat back and waved a decorated fan to cool himself in the growing heat in the room. "It's too nice of a day to ruin with petty arguments."

Sitting a cup of tea by his elbow, Arthur began to fix his own, making a sound of agreement from between pursed lips. "I guess so. Besides, I really need to attend to my work." He paused, cutting the other a warning look. "I don't need another incident like yesterday, what with you getting drunk off your arse and causing mayhem with the children."

Blue eyes rolled, and the cup lifted for a delicate sip. "I do not entertain getting as imbibed as I was, my dear. You will have your peace and quiet."

"I better have it, or I'll take my riding crop to all of you." Taking a grateful drink of his own beverage, Arthur turned and picked up the first message. Opening it, he saw it was an inquiry about the most recent attacks by the natives, and what the British officials were going to do to quell the violence. Sighing, he began to write his response. It was going to be a very long morning.

Meanwhile, while the adults were inside acting civilized, Alfred and Matthew had collected their poles from the shed by the water, and had baited and cast their lines out. They sat side-by-side on the small dock that extended out several feet over the water, bare feet dipping in the cool water.

Turning to his brother, Matthew smiled. "It seems like it will be a nice day, no?"

Alfred nodded, focusing on the cork bobbing in the water not too far from their position. "Yeah, seems like it is. It's going to be hot though. The air is too damp for it not to be." Frowning when it looked like he had a nibble, but didn't, he sighed and leaned his head on the other's shoulder. "We might want to go swimming later on, instead of fishing all day."

"We can't! We have our lessons this afternoon, and lord Kirkland said something about us taking a trip to town, and-"

"Ugh, Mattie, please! Don't call him that. His name is Arthur, or Britain."

"But that's his title, and we should show respect for his position!"

Blue eyes rolled in their sockets. "Cry me a river, brother. I'll keep calling him Arthur, and you call him whatever. But I will NOT call him lord anything! It's too formal."

Alfred shuddered at the thought of formal. For him, the word meant having to dress up in velvet suits and polished shoes, one of those aggravating silk cravats tied around his neck like a noose while sitting properly and sipping on tea and nibbling on over-the-top fancy pastries while carrying on a conversation in a quiet, demure voice in his finest English.

Needless to say, it wasn't his scene, at all.

Matthew, meanwhile, loved it when they were dressed up, their hair brushed and tied back with a silk ribbon to match their eyes, while conversing with the finest of gentry from the cream of the empire's society. It made him feel more mature, especially when Britain would compliment him on his ever-growing vocabulary of large, obtuse English phrases and proper mannerisms.

He couldn't help but feel a bit smug about that. Alfred was always being fussed at for wrinkling his suit, or slurping his tea when he should sip it quietly. The last time they had been at a formal gathering, he thought the man would die of embarrassment when Alfred, in his typical up-front fashion, had asked one of the ladies if she had as much lace under her skirts as she had above.

He giggled as he recalled how they had both been ushered out of the room in a frenzy by Arthur, his face beet red, to the informal dining room so that they both could benefit from the hissed lecture he gave about what was and what was not appropriate topics of conversation for the fifth time that night.

Alfred looked up at his brother, his head still resting on his shoulder, and nudged him. "What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing important."

He huffed at the short answer, but quickly forgot when the end of his pole was tugged downwards, indicating he had hooked a big fish.

"Oh man, this one's going to be a whopper!" Standing up, he began to fight with his catch. The trick was to tire them out before pulling them in, so that they didn't snap the line when it was tightened.

Matthew forgot his own pole, and jumped up to cheer his brother on. "Come on Al, you can do it! Show it who the boss is!"

The fight continued, the line making a whizzing noise as it zipped back and forth through the water. The prospective catch came to the surface long enough that the flash of its belly gave away that it was a trout, and a nice one at that.

Both boys were now excited, one growling and calling the fish names as he battled on, while the other continued to yell encouragement. Suddenly, the monster fish leapt from the water, catching them off guard. The gleam of its scales in the sunlight cast off rainbows that caught their eyes, making them both forget what they were doing.

Unfortunately for Alfred, the momentary distraction caused his grip to slacken on the pole. So when the fish went back under, the pole was suddenly yanked out of his hand. The two stood there and gaped, minds slow to grasp that not only had the fish got away, but the pole now lay a good dozen meters out in the water, the line having broken at some point.

Then Matthew whacked Alfred in the back of the head in disgust. "Why did you let go of the pole, you idiot?!"

"Hey!" Rubbing his abused scalp, he turned and scowled at the other. "I was distracted, alright?! You don't have to hit me, ya know."

Matthew whacked him again. "Use proper English!"

The scowl deepened. "I'm sorry, alright?! It was just so big, and it shined so pretty in the light! You saw it!"

Another smack to his head came, this one even harsher. "It's shone, not shined!"

"Dammit, stop hitting me, Mattie!"

The other gasped, a hand coming up to cover his mouth. "Oooh, you said a curse word!" This made his brother glare even more.

"Yeah, so what if I did?!" Alfred puffed his cheeks out, propping his hands on his hips in an act of defiance.

The Canadian studied him for only a moment. "I'm telling lord Kirkland on you!" And with that, he dashed off, his feet almost tripping over the uneven ground that led up from the pond and into the back of the yard. His brother was quick to give chase, scrambling up the slope after him. Matthew glanced over his shoulder and saw him coming, and shrieked, speeding up as he reached the flatter part.

Alfred was not going to let him beat him, no sir! He sped up as well, roaring at him to stop and face him like a man! "Get back here, you chicken!"

"No! You'll try to stop me!"

The boy growled, and did his best to catch up to him. But Matthew was light on his feet, and stayed several feet in front of him as they headed towards the house. He had to think fast! He didn't want to be strapped, and that was what Arthur would do if his brother told on him for cursing. Then he remembered his pole, still floating out on the water, and came to a slipper stop. "Mattie, wait! What about my fishing rod?!"

Matthew stopped as well, sliding on the grass a bit, and then turning to eye his brother warily. "What about it?! It's not like we can reach it. It's too far out." The grin that lit up the other's face spoke only of mischief.

"We can take the boat out to reach it. It'll only take a few minutes, I swear!"

Now he was the one with his fists propped on his hips. "You KNOW we aren't allowed to take the boat out on the water without an adult present to supervise us, Al. We'd both be in trouble then!"

Alfred held a finger up, and wagged it side-to-side. "Ah, but we'll get in even more trouble for losing the pole to begin with." Stepping closer, his grin grew. "And you know that Arthur will look at you being responsible for it too. Because you were there, and you should have been watching me, because I'm the irresponsible one while you're the mature, careful twin."

His grin turned to a smirk at the sight of his brother's gaping mouth. Yup, he had won this one. All he had to do was play on that insecurity his brother had about being the perfect young gentleman, and he'd have him like putty in his hands.

Matthew, on the other hand, couldn't believe how manipulative he was being. But, he couldn't help but fear that he'd be in trouble as well for not paying closer attention to Alfred. Sighing, his shoulders slumped as he began to make his way back towards the pond, Alfred falling in step beside him. "You know, one day you're going to get us both in big trouble, and when you do, I will NOT defend you. Especially if I'm blamed as well."

"Aww, Mattie! All we're going to do is go out and get the pole. Like I said, it won't take that long, and no one will ever know the difference." Alfred gave him a thumbs-up, smiling with what he hoped was reassurance. Matthew only groaned in response, a heavy feeling settling in his stomach. He just knew they were going to be in trouble for this.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-Exactly Three Hours Later-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Matthew sat opposite of his brother, glaring viciously. Alfred grinned sheepishly in response, rubbing his neck. A foot began tapping on the bottom of the boat, violet eyes filling with what promised to be a violent end. Blue eyes widened in response, and the other swallowed hard. Oh boy, he had gone and done it this time, that's for sure!

What Alfred had failed to mention to his brother was that he didn't have the slightest clue how to use the oars to paddle the boat.

Oh, they had managed to make it out to the pole, which had floated out to rest half way between the shore and a small outcropping of rock in the middle of the pond. It had been the return trip that had damned them. Because Matthew didn't know how to row a boat either.

They had spent the first hour after retrieving the pole spinning in circles as they drifted out farther on the water.

The second hour had been spent bickering at each other, both trying to figure out just how in the hell they were going to make it back to land. They had tried yelling at the top of their lungs, hoping someone would hear them.

No one did. They were too far out for their voices to carry up to the house.

A short time later, in a fit of rage, the boys had set upon each other, dueling with the oars like they were swords. Alfred, being the bright and intelligent boy he is, whacked the one Matthew was wielding out of his hands and out into the water, far beyond their reach. Now thoroughly pissed, he had reciprocated by kicking the other out of Alfred's hand, the oar soaring out to land on the opposite side of the boat, beyond their reach as well.

Once again, they had been reduced to gaping in shock, slow to grasp the situation they now found themselves in.

So here they were. Two children, adrift on a very large pond, no oars to help them guide the boat. A boat with one very upset Canadian staring down a very guilty American colonial inside it. Matthew was the first to finally break the silence, foot tapping even harder.

"Well? Any other bright ideas, Mr. Know-it-all?"

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AN: Going to stop here for now. I worked well thru lunch and I need a snack -_- The tale will conclude tomorrow, so stay tuned!


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Well, here's the second and last part of "Memory in a Dream". I will admit, I enjoyed writing this almost too much XD It's not often I come across a story that features child America and Child Canada acting like little boys instead of perfect little angels. Even though the characters are fiction, adding some realism to them doesn't hurt. In fact, in this authoress' opinion, it only enhances the reading experience. Now, I'll shut up, and let you enjoy the rest of the story!**

**DISCLAIMER: IN CHAPTER ONE. I'M TOO LAZY TO REPEAT IT :P**

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*the time is slightly past noon. and to clarify for those who might be curious, the boys are around 10 years old in appearance.*

Alfred continued to look guilty, finding it harder and harder to meet his brother's gaze by the second. He knew he had screwed up, big time. And the worst part was he had no clue as to how they were going to get back to the dock. They could possibly swim, but the pond was an unusually large one, and the water was beginning to look a bit choppy due to the increase in the wind, which kept blowing in harsh blasts. The scent of rain was in the air.

But the good news (kind of) was that they had drifted quite close to the small cluster of rocks in the center. Why was this good? Well, because of the answer said Alfred gave his brother.

Matthew's question was, "Now what, Mr. Know-it-all?"

Alfred's response, to put it literally, was, "Uh… I haven't the slightest clue."

It was at that moment that the young Canadian's control snapped. One moment he was sitting across from him. The next he was tackling his sibling to the bottom of the boat, pummeling every inch of him he could reach with a flurry of fists.

"You JACKASS!" He kept working his brother over, tears of rage gathering in the corner of his eyes. "You are such an idiot! Why… would you… bring us… out here on… the pond… if you DIDN'T KNOW HOW TO PADDLE THE DAMN BOAT?!"

Alfred, caught in a haze of disbelief that his brother would be so aggressive, could only respond in a fashion befitting only him. "Hey, you said a curse word too! Now you can't tell on me!"

This only made the other see pure red, a shriek that would have made any banshee proud tearing out of him. Drawing back his fist, making sure to aim carefully, he aimed for and nailed Alfred between the eyes, effectively breaking his nose.

The one with the abused appendage immediately retaliated, pure agony blinding him. He bucked up wildly, managing to usurp his brother off of him. Quickly pulling himself to a sitting position, blood gushing from his nose, he drew back a fist of his own, and returned the favor.

Matthew howled as the snap of the cartilage between and below his eyes reached his ears. Not to be deterred though, he lashed out with his foot, kicking his brother hard in the chest, then scrambling over the bench his brother had occupied moments before to put distance between them. Fighting up close was no good; he needed more room to maneuver.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-*back at the house with Angleterre and the Frog*-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

France picked at the food on his plate with his fork, frowning down at the fare set before him. Why, in the name of the Vestal Virgins, did his nemesis have to be such an awful cook? Unsure about continuing his meal, he looked up at Britain, who was chewing on a mouthful of the carbonized fare, one hand holding up his last message to answer. He couldn't help but grin at the look of intense concentration on the other's face. Well, if he had to eat this crap, he'd need something to focus on to block out the horrible taste.

His thoughts drifted, coming to rest on the boys. Usually, they ate lunch in the kitchen. But even though it was in a building off the side of the house, he should have been hearing their laughter and aimless chatter floating down the corridor connecting them together. But today he heard nothing. He cleared his throat to get the other's attention, who looked up at him with a bored expression.

"Angleterre, where are the boys? Surely they haven't eaten yet."

Britain paused, his fork mid-way to his mouth. "Well, now that you mention it, they didn't come around for lunch."

Both men frowned. That was unusual. Especially in Alfred's case, who always made sure to be there at meal time. Sitting his fork down, Britain stood up, and walked to the back door, gazing out towards where he had last seen them go. He strained his ears to hear any sound from the two, a giggle or shout, anything.

But he was only met with the noise of the encroaching wilderness.

A weight settled in his stomach, his mother hen tendencies rising very close to the surface. Something was wrong. He could nearly taste it. Turning, he called to France, who joined him at the door a moment later. "I think we should go and look for them. It's too calm outside. And I don't hear nor see them anywhere."

France tilted his head, noting the worried expression he wore. "Are you sure? Maybe they're just off having an adventure."

He shook his head. "No, they would have came and told us if they planned on going on a woodland romp." He made to go out the door, motioning for France to follow. "Come, my stomach grows heavier by the second."

Normally they would have taken their time, but right as they made it to the bottom of the steps, a flash of light lit up the sky, which had filled with dark clouds as the morning rolled on, followed by the crack of thunder. Giving each other a glance, they quickened their pace.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-Back With The Boys-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

As their guardians figured out that they were MIA, the brothers had fell into a full-out brawl with one another, fists and feet flying. Neither one barely made a sound, both grunting and sweating profusely with the effort to subdue the other, or beat the living shit out of them. But the fight was about to come to a sudden end.

Matthew, once again, had found his way to sitting on top of his brother, this time doing his best to pull all that fluffy golden hair from his scalp. Both were bleeding freely, noses and lips leaking crimson, as well as a number of scratches and gouges on their persons. They had ended up with two black eyes each for the broken noses; a number of bruises the same color dotting their faces, arms, and legs. There was no telling how bad the damage was under their shirts.

Alfred had his hands wound just as tightly in his hair as well, determined that the carefully tended waves would join the oars in the water shortly.

It was a stalemate, neither one giving an inch to the other. But Alfred, until then restraining his uber strength in fear of causing lethal harm to his brother, had had enough. He took a breath, and with a roar used his entire body to propel himself upwards and throw Matthew off of him again. Matthew, taken by surprise, let go of his hair as he flew through the air, off of his brother, and over the side of the boat, landing in the water with a heavy splash.

The other just sat there; surprised he had managed to loosen the hold on him. Matthew was just about as strong as he was, so he had expected another struggle in the least. But now all he could do is gape at his brother flailing in the water, doing his best to make it back to the boat.

Then he remembered that his brother couldn't swim.

"Ah, crap, Mattie! Hold on, I'm a comin'!" Without a thought to what he was doing, he dived in after him. Hitting the water hard, he gasped for breath as the chilly water shocked his sweaty, sun warmed skin. Noticing that the other was barely keeping his head above the water, he doggy paddled over to him, slinging one of his arms around his shoulders. Together, with Alfred coaching Matthew on how to maneuver, they made their way to the outcropping they had been drifting by.

Matthew, once he reached the edge of a low lying boulder, grabbed for a hold and hauled himself up out of the water. He turned and offered Alfred a hand with climbing out of the water, yanking him up to stand with him. Together, both keeping silent, they climbed the rocks, finding a perch on top of the mound. Together, they watched as the boat floated away from them, having been knocked in another direction by the waves of their not-so-graceful exits into the pond.

Slowly, Matthew turned to lock eyes with Alfred, who in turn gave that infuriatingly sheepish grin. Shaking his head slowly, he drew his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them, wrapping his arms around his legs as the breeze picked up, making him shiver slightly. When had it cooled off so much?

"Hey, at least we got to go swimming."

The poor violet eyed boy just sighed, eyes now glued on the shore line. "Alfred, when I go swimming I never leave the designated area. As long as my feet can touch the bottom, I'm fine. You know that!" Pivoting his head to look at his now very guilty looking sibling, he sighed yet again. "Well, I guess we're stuck here until someone spots us."

Alfred nodded. "Boy, am I gonna get a lashing. Heck, Arthur might hang me for this one." Biting his lower lip, he glanced down at his lap, now regretting the decision to even go fishing this morning. "I'm sorry I dragged you into this. I didn't mean for things to end up like they are now."

The fact that he had the decency to at least apologize seemed to blow away most of the anger Matthew had for him. Looking back towards the shoreline, he nodded. "Yeah. I'm sorry too. For being such a baby, that is."

Scooting closer to Matthew, Alfred rested his abused head on his shoulder. "Nah, you're not a baby, Mattie. If you were you wouldn't have licked my tail like you did."

That made him snort. "Well, I'm supposed to be able to. I'm the older one."

"You just remember the bigger they are, the harder they fall." Their gazes cut to each other, and just like that the fight was over, both of them busting out in a fit of giggles.

All was well between them again. Until the approaching storm made itself known, that is.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-Presen t Day-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- o

Matthew looked down at his brother with a bemused expression as he giggled in his sleep. Arthur, distracted by the entirely childish sound, paused in his reading once again to look down at the sleeping nation. "What on earth is he going on about?! My God, it's almost as bad as when he's awake!"

The other shrugged, and continued to pet his brother's hair. "Apparently I'm involved. He's said my name a few times."

Rolling his eyes, Arthur went back to his book. Matthew went back to dozing and petting his brother. It was nice, to just be there in the peace and quiet, the three of them. For a moment, he wondered where Francis had wandered off to, but the shrugged it off. He'd find his way back eventually.

Or end up in jail for groping the wrong woman.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-The Hunt for the Boys-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The wind was picking up, the clouds coming in even more bruised and heavy with rain than before. In the space of twenty minutes, they had checked the barnyard and the surrounding property for any sign of the children, with no results.

"Dammit, where are they?!" Britain scanned the tree line, praying that they'd appear. Of course, they didn't, which had him growing desperate for his babies. What if they had been attacked?! Or kidnapped?! What if they were trying to seek shelter from the oncoming storm in a cave in the woods? They could catch colds, or end up being bitten by a snake! Wringing his hands fretfully, he roared at the top of his lungs for them.

"ALFRED! MATTHEW! WHERE ARE YOU?! ANSWER ME, RIGHT NOW!"

France rested a hand on his shoulder, quite worried himself. "We'll find them, Angleterre, don't you worry." Looking towards the pond, he figured it wouldn't hurt to go and check there too. He pointed in that direction. "We should go and check down there. Didn't you say they went fishing this morning?"

Nodding, he took off for the water, his fast walk becoming a run when lightening branched across the sky, the booming bass of thunder right behind it. France was hot on his heels, his hair frizzed up from the humidity in the air.

Together they half tripped, half slid down the embankment. Rushing to the dock, the only signs that they had been there was Matthew's pole, still where he had stuck it between the planks, and their bait. Carefully, they scanned the shoreline for as far as they could see, France taking the right, Britain the left.

Meanwhile, the boys had huddled together on their island, watching the sky with terror in their eyes. Alfred wasn't the only one with a fear of storms when they were that age. And whenever the skies lit up, or thunder roared, they would jump, clinging to each other even tighter.

Britain, who had been carefully combing his side of the pond with a hawk's gaze, nearly had a heart attack when he saw the boat, which should have been tied to the dock, floating near the shore line, at what he judged to be a good quarter kilometer down from their position. Oh dear lord, they didn't do what he was thinking they did. Or so he hoped.

"I don't see them, Angleterre! Where else could they be?" Running a hand through his hair, brushing it back from his face, he turned to look at Britain, who at that moment began calling for them in that roaring voice again.

"BOYS! ANSWER ME!"

"Angleterre…"

"The boat Francis, the fucking boat! It's all the way down there! What if they got in it and fell out?! What if they drowned?!"

Blue eyes widened in panic. He knew his precious Mathieu couldn't swim. And if they had made their way out on the water, and they fell out, there was a good chance they had done just that. He was quick to join Britain's desperate calls with his own.

With the both of them now bellowing, the combined sound made its way across the water, strong enough that Matthew's ears just caught it within the roar of the wind. Pulling his face from where he had buried it in Alfred's neck, he looked towards the shore line once more, and almost broke down sobbing when he saw the other two standing there, obviously calling for them. He shook his brother's shoulder with excitement, drawing him out of his terror-induced stupor. Matthew pointed towards the adults, hand shaking from the cold wind and damp. "They're looking for us, look! We have to get their attention!"

Alfred looked towards the shore, and recognized his beloved guardian's clothing and stance, even from this distance. Jumping up suddenly, his mind only on getting to the safety of his arms, he began jumping up and down shrieking at the top of his lungs.

"HERE! WE'RE HERE, ARTHUR! ARTHUUUUR!"

Matthew joined in as well, yelling for France, praying they would hear them. "PAPA! PAPA, OVER HERE!"

Luckily, the wind shifted for a moment, carrying their cries to the shore. Immediately, two sets of eyes locked on the very much alive and well boys waving and jumping frantically. France muttered a prayer of thanks for their good luck. Britain barely held back a sob of relief. His boys were alive, and unharmed.

The storm made itself known yet again, reminding him that they might remain that way for much longer. Thinking fast, he turned and tore down the side of the water, calling to France over his shoulder. "Quick! The shed, there are spare oars inside! Grab them and make haste!"

The dream becomes a bit foggy here, the children thankful to be found now sinking back to the rocks below them to wait for their rescuers, huddling back together for warmth and comfort as the storm bore down on them. When their guardians made it to the little island, they literally flew into their embrace. All four managed to make it back to the shore, and the safety of the house in one piece, narrowly missing the heavy torrent of rain as the skies opened up, unleashing its fury.

Both boys were immediately bundled up in woolen blankets and deposited on the bear fur rug in front of the fire place. Cups of piping hot tea were pressed in their hands, and one British man flitted about them, clucking and fussing over the two just like a mother hen would do to her hatchlings. And as the midday downpour tapered off to a steady pounding of by mid afternoon, both boys had been bathed and redressed in fresh clothing.

Now, they were sat side-by-side in the parlor, on the couch, with two very stern looking nations hovering above them, both calm, curiosity and annoyance replacing their fear and concern once both were recovered from their ordeal. France was the first to speak.

"Well? Care to explain how you ended up in the middle of the lake? And the black eyes and bruises too."

Britain stood next to him, arms crossed, toe tapping the floor. Green eyes bore into violet and blue. At once, the boys began to explain at once.

"Alfred let go of his pole…"

"Mattie was gonna tell on me…"

"And then he said we'd take the boat…"

"Then we lost the oars fighting…"

"And then we fought some more…"

"I threw Mattie overboard on accident…"

They continued to ramble in a jumble of sentences. But the two older men were used to this, having learned to decipher their babble long ago. Having heard enough, Britain held up a hand, making both boys pause in their explanation. He turned to Matthew and spoke to him first.

"Let me see if I understand this correctly. Alfred's pole ended up in the pond, and you chastised him for being careless…"

A wavy head of hair nodded eagerly.

"And Alfred said a naughty word, which you decided to come and tell me about."

Another nod from the Canadian boy, the other hanging his head in shame.

"Then Alfred came up with the brilliant plan to use the boat to fetch it, without one of us being there. And you agreed." Those green eyes narrowed the slightest bit, disappointment shining in them.

It was Matthew's turn to hang his head. He nodded, afraid to speak.

"I see…" Britain then turned to Alfred, who was peeking up at him through his bangs with puppy dog eyes. "So you go out, manage to reach the pole, only to discover that you can't navigate your way back, end up fighting, and wind up losing the oars and boat."

Alfred nodded. "Yes, sir." His voice was very quiet and subdued. Britain was looking more and more angry by the second. France wasn't looking too pleased either.

"Hmm. And to polish it off, you end up fighting with your brother. Twice, mind you, and bang each other up quite nicely, from the looks of it." He pointed to the already fading black eyes Alfred was sporting. It was convenient to be a nation at times. He and Matthew's injuries had begun healing only minutes after they had found themselves stranded. But they both still looked like raccoons.

"And to top it all off, you end up marooned on the island." Here Britain paused, taking a deep breath to keep him from flying off the handle.

France, on the other hand, decided to get his two cents worth in right then. "Why would you two do something so stupid?! Were you using your heads at all when you went about your little mission? Hmm?" Stepping forward, he frowned down at Matthew. "Well, I think you both should be sent to bed without your suppers, and grounded for the rest of the week!"

Nodding, Britain agreed. "Yes, I do believe that will be fitting punishment for this. I mean really, you two. You have been told time and time again to think before you act! You cannot be successful as nations if you continue on in such a reckless manner. I hope you are ashamed of yourselves."

Both boys nodded as well, accepting their fate without argument.

Looking to France, Britain nodded once, and left the room with long strides, leaving them alone with the Frenchman. He, in turn, took a seat in an armchair, and continued to study the two. Now that the parenting had been taken care of, he was free to look at the humor of the situation. Really, the two of them were too much! He began to chuckle, catching their attention. Their faces turned to stare at him, eyes wide, unsure of what to think. He smiled at them then, eyes twinkling with mirth. "You really know how to stir things up, don't you?"

First Mathieu smiled back, hesitant until France grinned. Then he grinned back too. Alfred smiled as well, breathing a sigh of relief. It looked like they had escaped the worst case scenario. He was about to speak when he heard the unmistakable crack of a leather belt being snapped tight. His eyes slowly swiveled to stare at the doorway, where his beloved Arthur stood wielding his weapon, head tilted slightly.

"I wouldn't be smiling if I were you, poppet."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-oBack to Present Dayo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Alfred had begun thrashing in his sleep, succeeding in knocking both Matthew and Arthur off the bed. The two in question stood up, rubbing their abused rumps and glaring at the boy now making unintelligible sounds in his sleep, like he was in some kind of distress. Concerned, the two of them leaned over and began shaking his shoulders.

"Alfred, wake up! You're having a nightmare."

"Come now poppet, rise and shine."

Suddenly, Alfred jerked upright in bed, a look of unholy terror on his face, babbling steadily. "Please don't strap me Arthur I promise I won't do it again I promise please don't I don't like the strap it stings like crap please please please…"

Arthur, gazing at the boy as though he had lost it, snapped his fingers in front of his face a few times, finally drawing his attention out of his dreams and onto him. "America, I'm not going to strap you. You're a grown man, for God's sake!"

Alfred blinked at him unevenly. "Mwhah?" He looked around, and saw his brother there on the other side of him. The grown Matthew. Then he took in his surroundings, and remembered where he was after taking a minute to digest the information trickling through his still-asleep brain. Realizing he was in the twentieth century, and not the sixteenth, and wasn't about to get his ass tore up by Arthur's belt made him relax once more.

Yawning, he scrubbed at his eyes with balled up fists, then lay back down, immediately falling back into a now peaceful slumber.

The other two locked eyes, arched their eyebrows, and then shrugged, resuming their places flanking him.

America was just weird at times, even in his sleep.

Le End

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**AN: And that, boys and girls, is a wrap! This fic will be my first officially finished one for the fandom (not that two chapters are anything to begin with XD). Thank you so much for joining me on this little trip back in time. Any questions, comments, reviews, and/or concerns are accepted. Now, I have to keep working on my other fics, seeing as this one chapter took nearly 6 hours for me to complete. Happy reading to you all, later!**

**-E.P.C.**

_**Also, I'd like to give a shout out to luvs-blonde-guyz and 91RedRoses for reviewing. As a reward, I shall sing at your next unbirthday parties. Thank you for your time reading and reviewing XD**_


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